The good: This was my 25th time running this race consecutively.
The bad: For the second time in five years, I did not break 60 minutes
The ugly: My slowest time in 20 years, and the worst I’ve ever felt during this race.
First of all, why did this race go so poorly? Well, race day was simply brutal. The heat and humidity were somehow even worse than usual, and everyone ran slower than they had hoped. My experience was exacerbated because I was coming off a week of tent camping with five kids and was exhausted, dehydrated, and underfueled.
I drove out the night before with my friend Trisha and quickly realized that my brilliant plan for a free pasta dinner at Babe’s was not in the cards as I never made a reservation. So we picked up some groceries and made dinner at my parents’ house, which was its own comedy of errors (like not realizing that the toaster oven wasn’t plugged in while cooking the meatballs). We drove down in the morning and had to return multiple times to the car to retrieve forgotten items, and then only had time for a one-mile warmup. I felt my hamstrings cramp up while doing my usual pre-race lunges, which was the first indication that things might not go well that day.
Trisha, being a masters elite runner, went into the super-swanky elite section while I was relegated to peeing in the bushes with the other plebians. I found some other friends and teammates before the start and we arranged ourselves in the corrals according to our goals and confidence. I made sure to wander towards the back of the section.
My plan, as usual, was to get out comfortable in around 6:30, and try to get a little faster in the second mile before settling into a slower pace up the hills from 3-4. My first mile was a tad slow in 6:37, but more concerning was the fact that while I could tell I wasn’t running particularly fast, I literally could not go any faster. I was redlining and not even close to the pace I wanted to run. My legs felt weak and shaky, and the Charlie horses in my hamstrings were threatening to make another appearance. Not wanting to end up in a medical tent by 5K, I made a concerted effort to back off the pace and just focus on finishing the race.
A 6:47 second mile confirmed my suspicions that this was not a day for a fast time. While I had hoped to repeat last year’s performance of running under an hour, I was also glad that I had already broken my streak of sub-60s back in 2022, so there was no pressure for me to run any sort of time goal. I spent the next 7 miles running at what felt like a sustainable pace and cursing the weather. In all my 25 years of running this race, I have never taken ice or a freezie pop, but I did both this year. Nothing worked to temper the oppressive conditions, though, and my pace slid more towards “recovery jog” pace with each passing mile.
Those 15 kilometers felt exactly like the last six miles of a marathon: you can tell you’re not running the pace you should be, and maybe aren’t even running much faster than an easy run, but still are digging deep and unable to go any faster. Finally, the finish line was in sight, and I dragged my exhausted body across it, not even attempting any semblance of a kick.
My time of 1:06:14 was, as I said earlier, my slowest since 2005, when I ran just a few months after getting a stress fracture. And yes, I am disappointed that I had such a miserable race. But I also think I was smart and adjusted my goal and pace according to the conditions and how I felt, and ran what I was capable of that day.
And in exciting news, Trisha finished third in the masters women division, which more than made up for my subpar performance!
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